


The One Who Taught Me How to Love

by elfenphoenix



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Multi, Not Incest, please do not interpret it as such
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-09-06 15:32:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8758615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfenphoenix/pseuds/elfenphoenix
Summary: Now that the Grand Prix Final is over and he's returned to Russia with a gold medal in hand, Yuri Plisetsky is the Russian favorite in men’s figure skating. He’s doing well with his training to become the “prima ballerina” of the ice, until someone completely unexpected comes back into his life. His older sister, Laritha Plisetskaya, suddenly makes an explosive appearance in competitive figure skating, dominating the Russian Nationals.He hasn’t seen his sister since she left him with his grandfather, ten years ago, to join the Russian Ballet. Now suddenly she’s back, and she’s a lot colder than he remembers her. Still-- one thing remains the same-- they still don’t understand each other, and neither of them really knows what love is. But just maybe, if they can find a way to connect to each other again, they’ll be able to truly open up to other people-- as well as dominate the competition.





	1. Prima Ballerina

_I remember the first time I skated…_

 

 _No, that wouldn’t exactly be true. I don’t_ really _remember it. I was still too young to really remember much at all. I don’t remember where we went skating, or how old I was, or even if I did well or not. It’s barely even a memory. More of a set of images that flash through my mind sometimes when I skate. The ice, a bluish-gray. My sister’s warm hands holding me up even though my feet were slipping. Flashes of blue eyes behind her blonde hair, spiraling around her as she glided across the ice. She never tied her hair back when she skated, even though Grandpa told her so many times that it could be dangerous to skate with such long hair hanging freely. But, of course, she never listened. She always said that the ice was a place to be free._

_I don’t remember what happened that day, but I remember the awe I felt when I watched my sister skate. I remember watching her fly across the ice with a confident smile, remember knowing that I wanted to be that graceful, that powerful, that confident, when I skated. I wasn’t very good then-- but I promised myself that I’d become even better than she was. If I could beat her, then no one else could stand a chance. I honestly believed that._

 

Yuri Plisetsky crunched a soda can in his hands and tossed it as hard as he could into the garbage bin about ten feet away. “Not that I ever got the chance. That old lady vanished before I could even land a double.”

Mila, who had been untying her skates after finishing practice, raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, Yuri? Is something wrong?”

He grimaced, both at the idea of responding to her, and at his thoughts about his sister. “Forget about it, you hag!”

He slid out onto the ice, shrugging the “memory” off and concentrating on his routine. He was still trying to think of a concept for this next skating season, now that the Grand Prix was over. “Trying” being the key term there. He hadn’t been able to concentrate for a while now. Maybe that was the reason he was suddenly remembering annoying things. Either way, he had to focus.

Focus…. Focus… focu--

“YURIO~~~ your quad lutz is beautiful! If only you didn’t rush into the take-off, you’d be spectacular!”

He grimaced, trying to ignore the shouting.

That’s right. The reason Yuri couldn’t concentrate on practicing his routines was because _those two_ had been invited by Yakov to spend the pre-season training with their team in St. Petersburg.

And Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki were being as disgustingly lovey-dovey as ever, even as they cheered for him from the edge of the rink while Yuuri got a drink of water. It was annoying to have them cheer for him. It felt like they were making fun of him. As if they were saying, “You may have won the Grand Prix last year, but you've still got work to do!”

Yuri spun around just so that he wouldn’t have to look at them while he skated.

It was true, though, his quads were only getting better… but that meant nothing if he couldn’t come up with some kind of concept. Nothing stupid, like “love”. Actually, he kind of hated the idea of “themes” in figure skating, since as long as you could perform the routine perfectly, you should be able to win. And yet he’d lost to that damn JJ not once, but TWICE despite doing everything right.

And you couldn’t really choreograph a routine without _some_ kind of idea in mind. Normally he’d just let Yakov do it, but this time he’d stubbornly insisted he’d do it himself. Victor, JJ, Yuuri… the thing that separated all of them from Yuri was that they made their own themes, even if they were all stupid. But if following in their footsteps could bring him even one step closer to absolute victory, then he was going to do it. One day, he’d beat that stupid Victor.

Even though beating him felt empty now. Yuri had been imagining holding the gold medal in his hands and looking smugly at Victor, disappointedly holding a silver. He’d wanted that _so badly_ … and last year he'd almost given up on it ever happening. Victor Nikiforov had retired from skating before Yuri had had the chance to challenge him. All so that he could be that little pig’s coach. But now he was back. Victor had come back to the skating world, and that meant that Yuri now had the chance to beat him fair and square. If only he could figure out his own routine.

He attempted another jump out of frustration, but stepped out and ended up falling over, sprawled out on the ice.

“Yurio-kun, is something wrong?” Yuuri Katsuki asked him, seeming genuinely concerned, which was even more annoying than if he’d been faking it.

“Shut up and worry about yourself, Pork Bowl!” he growled in response.

Frustrated, Yuri rushed to the other edge of the rink, where his water bottle was sitting. He slid the top off the bottle and began chugging it out of irritation, zoning out at the window.

 _When_ was _the first time I went skating?_ He wondered to himself.

Grandpa had told him that his sister had taken him out ice skating when he was only three years old. He’d picked it up quickly, he’d been told. In only two years, he was actually showing talent in it. But he didn’t know if it was actually true, or if Grandpa was just exaggerating. After all, at three years old he probably wasn’t even that good at _walking_ yet, let alone skating.

At five years old he’d been showing talent in it… did he really? He couldn’t really remember. But he remembered feeling lonely. The ice was cold when he fell. He was used to his sister reaching down to help him back to his feet. But she wasn’t there anymore.

“YURIO!”

The shout pulled him out of his thoughts with a gasp, and he turned to see that the ice was empty, and they were all looking at the TV screen at the other end of the rink.

Oh, that’s right… nationals… the Russian Nationals were going on. That was why Yakov wasn’t there. He’d almost forgotten, since, as a finalist, he automatically qualified for the international competitions.

He skated over out of curiosity, coming to a halt next to Georgi. Everyone’s mouths were open, staring at the screen.

Mila’s face was white as a sheet, her voice shaking. “One of my friends went to the competition… s-she told me to turn on the TV so that I could see the monster coming up on me…”

Yuri grimaced, looking up at the TV screen incredulously. Everyone was acting ridiculous. Why were even Yuuri Victor so concerned with the women’s figure skating?

 _“Completely unknown in the figure skating world until this season, this is the skater to look out for,”_ The announcer on the TV was saying, _“Just yesterday she was smashing Mila Babicheva’s short program record for women’s skating in Russia, and now we don’t know what to expect from her! How can this former prima ballerina of the Bolshoi ballet surprise us today with her free skate?!”_

Yuri froze completely as the camera panned over to the next skater. A woman with long, long blonde hair braided tightly around her head. Her face was stone-like, her black-lipsticked mouth turned downward at the corners. She looked nothing at all like the girl Yuri remembered, but yet she was unmistakable.

It felt like someone had reached inside his chest and was squeezing his heart, while he watched the screen with horror, noticing every detail of the skater’s program.

“ _And that’s a Quad toe loop followed by a triple flip! Not even a moment’s breath and she’s heading into an impressive step sequence! Incredible! We haven’t seen a program with this kind of technical difficulty since last year’s MEN’S Grand Prix!”_

Flashes of blue eyes behind blonde hair.

_“Amazing! A perfect quad-triple-double combination! In the second half! Laritha Plisetskaya hasn’t even finished her program and she’s already completely blown the competition off the ice! Ladies and gentlemen, this is Laritha Plisetskaya, this year’s dark horse, exploding onto the scene!”_

“Yurio-kun… are you related to this girl?” Yuuri asked completely innocently. “She looks a lot like you and her last name is really similar...”

“Oh, did you not know, Yuuri? Yurio’s older sister is a famous ballerina! Hey, hey, Yurio, I didn’t know your sister was a figure skater, too!” Victor, one arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, seemed incredibly excited by this development.

Yuri blocked them out. _Why now_ ?! Why would she leave the ice for ten years, only to come back _now_?!

“Eeehhhh??! Yurio-kun, I didn’t know you had an older sister!”

Yuri winced, glaring back at them, and then at the screen.

“I _don’t_.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Laritha’s routine, it so turned out, had scored even higher than the men’s top skater-- completely unheard of. She was now guaranteed a spot in the Cup of China, the same place Yuri would be going (Yuuri Katsuki, fortunately, was placed in Skate America instead). At least, as long as the ISU decided that she was even allowed to continue skating after scoring so impossibly high. There was debate if she would be allowed to continue skating in the women’s division, or if she should be moved to the men’s competition instead. Or even if she’d be disqualified, because no woman could do those kinds of feats without drugging.

Yuri heard all of these second-hand from his overly-excited rinkmates. He, himself, wasn’t watching the news. He was sitting by himself, trying to force back all of the annoying thoughts that were threatening to overcome him.

Everyone walked by, nobody really thinking about him, as absorbed as they were in their own conversations, their own preoccupation with the sensational new skater.

 

_I wanted to share it with you because skating is my favorite thing in the world, Yuratchka!_

_Why?_

_Well… because on the ice, I’m free!_

_Free? Then can’t you be free on the ground?_

 

“Yurio-kun?”

Yuri looked up and groaned when he saw Yuuri Katsuki. “What do _you_ want, Pork Bowl?”

Yuuri sat down next to him, looking concerned and nervous all at once. “Uh-um, well…”

“Spit it out!”

“Y-yes! Well… I just… they said on the TV that she was the older sister of ‘Champion Russian Skater Yuri Plisetsky’, so I just wanted to… ask…” Yuuri fidgeted with his jacket zipper, clearly unwilling to look Yuri in the eye.

Yuri curled his arms around his legs as he found himself mumbling “yeah… she’s my sister.”

Most of the other skaters had begun heading back to the dorms, and it was starting to darken around the rink, but Yuuri and Yuri were still sitting there.

“Eh? Wait, but you said…”

“Laritha left when I was five years old,” Yuri interrupted, not knowing why he was telling Yuuri this. But the words were flowing out of him of their own volition, completely overpowering him. Maybe it didn’t really matter that it was Yuuri Katsuki. He just needed to tell _someone_ , or he felt like he would overflow.

“She’s seven years older than me, so I wouldn’t exactly say we were close, but… she taught me how to skate.”

“Oh? Not your grandpa?”

Yuri shook his head. “No… grandpa already had a bad back by then. And I was too young to really remember any of those lessons. But I remember how I felt when she left.”

“Left? Where did she go?”

“Like hell I know! She just disappeared one day! Grandpa would’ve thought she’d been kidnapped, except she’d taken all of her ballet equipment with her. But she didn’t leave any note, or letter, or anything. Didn’t take her skates or her trophies with her. I didn’t really understand what had happened at the time-- I just kept asking Grandpa where my sister had gone. When she was coming back.”

Yuri paused for a moment, glancing over at Yuuri’s expression.

“Ugh, don’t tell me you’re crying.”

Yuuri quickly hurried to wipe his tears. “I-I’m sorry, that’s just… I can’t imagine having that happen!”

Yuri returned his head to his knees. “Yeah, well, I think it was worse for Grandpa. His twelve-year old granddaughter just running off. We didn’t hear anything about her until a whole _year_ later, when we saw her name in some flyer for the Bolshoi ballet troupe. We tried getting in touch with her, but we never got through. If she got our letters, she never wrote back. Eventually we just gave up. She got more and more powerful roles in ballet. Grandpa finally said, ‘your sister is taking hold of her own dreams, Yuratchka. But you don’t have to do it alone, like she did. If you want to skate, then Grandpa will help you.’”

“So why are you so upset?”

Yuri clenched his fist, uncurling himself and then standing up to look down at Yuuri. “You _saw_ her program, right?! Nobody loved ice skating more than my sister! Nobody could skate the way she did. No women, and no men. She was ready to be a world champion. I thought, if I could be a better skater than her, nothing else would matter. But she just _quit_ . And to this day, I just… can’t understand why she would quit just to do _ballet!_ ”

Yuuri was silent for a while, looking down at his hands. “I… don’t know, Yurio-kun. But… I’m glad you could tell me all this!” He said, standing up with a bright smile.

Internally, Yuri cringed. _Crap_. He’d let that Pork Bowl’s gentle-and-caring act get to him… and he’d dumped out his life’s secrets.

Yuuri didn’t seem to notice, continuing, “You’ll see each other at the Cup of China, right?! You can ask her all kinds of questions then!”

More internal cringing. _Crap. He really hated seeing that disgusting smile on that Pork Bowl’s stupid face_.

“Of course I was planning on doing that anyway, stupid piggy!”

Feeling his face flush, Yuri grabbed his sports bag and ran away quickly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were curious, I imagine the song Laritha's skating to here to be "Ship of Fools" by Yuki Kajiura (from the Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicles OST). That's why she's able to perform so many rapid jumps and step sequences along with the music-- it's a very fast-paced song, with an ethereal quality that I think describes Laritha's personality pretty well.


	2. Laritha Plisetskaya

It so turned out that Yuri didn’t have to wait until the Cup of China to confront his sister. In fact, he didn’t have to wait at all.

“Yuri! Wake up!”

Yuri groaned, ready to kick Georgi in the face for trying to wake him up. “What’s up with you, Weirdo?!”

“Yuri, Laritha Plisetskaya is on her way here! It’s on the news!”

Yuri jolted awake, taking Georgi out with the flying blankets. He grabbed his phone from his dresser, looking at his social media explode.

“ _Wow! She’s really pretty! Just like Yuratchka! XD”_

_“She’s in St. Petersburg! OMG what if she’s going to go see her little brother?!”_

_“Why didn’t I ever make the connection between Laritha Plisetskaya and Yuri Plisetsky?! ;;”_

_“OMG guys I think she’s heading to the rink!”_

The last photograph was a picture of Laritha heading into his team’s skating rink. Yuri shook his head, getting dressed quickly, leaving Georgi to untangle himself from Yuri’s blankets.

“W-wait,Yuri!”

Yuri was already gone, rushing off toward the rink.

He went in through the back door, knowing from social media that there was a crowd gathered outside the main entrance. He ran right past the rink, toward where he knew her to be, mentally preparing a thousand things he was going to yell at her for.

_Where did you go why did you leave so suddenly I know for a fact you never REALLY quit skating or that routine wouldn’t have been so good and why the hell did you have to do that anyway?!_

But when he came within sight of her, something made him stop short and just stare.

Laritha Plisetskaya, his older sister, was glaring fiercely at Yakov Feldsman, not even seeming to notice Yuri.

“Where is Lilia Baranovskaya?” she demanded, her blue eyes trained entirely on the old man’s face.

“That is not important. You expect me to let a competitor just waltz into my training camp and start making demands?!” Yakov responded with equal vigor.

“I do. My brother is your student, yes?”

“What does that have to do with--”

“Yakov.”

An older woman joined Yakov, her curt tone silencing the man instantly. Yuri, from his place slightly around the corner, recognized her as his trainer and choreographer, Lilia Baranovskaya. Former director of the… the Bolshoi Ballet!

Lilia’s expression didn’t change at all when she looked at Laritha. “Ah yes, Laritha Plisetskaya, one of my best students. I was impressed with your grace when you first came to our troupe. Every movement, down to the bend of a single finger, looked as if it was practiced.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Laritha responded. “You made my life miserable-- don’t make it sound like you did me a favor.”

Yuri blinked, staring at his sister curiously. _Was this the same girl he remembered?_ He observed her carefully, trying to put together the things he remembered about her with the girl standing a few meters away from him.

Laritha’s voice was deeper than he’d thought it would be. She was tall, for a ballerina, actually looking eye-to-eye with Lilia. Still, she looked delicate, wearing a gently flowing light blue dress that grazed her knees. Her hair was hanging mostly loose, only the sides of it pulled behind her head into a braid. Still, the expression on her face was _not_ delicate at all. She wasn’t wearing the dark makeup she’d had on for her free skate, but it did nothing to lessen the intensity of the way she was glaring at Lilia.

Yuri looked carefully for any part of her that reminded him of the warm sister he remembered, aside from her eyes and her hair. Finally, he gave up.

Lilia seemed unperturbed by the intense gaze, though. “Yes, well, if you insist on being ungrateful… what do you want?”

“I want you to return my brother to me immediately.”

Yuri couldn’t help himself. “HUH?!”

All three of them jumped, startled by his outburst. They finally turned to see him, hiding slightly behind the pillar. Laritha turned to him entirely, and underneath her steady gaze he felt suddenly incredibly vulnerable. Especially when she began walking toward him, her arms open, breathing his name. “ _Yuratchka._ ”

Yuri took a step back, glaring up at her. “Don’t come toward me with that look on your face, acting as if you deserve it! Don’t you dare! And what the hell do you mean, ‘ _return_ my brother to me immediately?! You’re the one who bailed on us!”

She stopped, looking wounded, but guilty. “You do not understand everything I have done, Yuratchka. And I do not mean to take you away from this place. Only away from this woman.”

“HUH?!”

Laritha stepped toward him again, leaning downward so that she was looking him in the eye, her gaze pleading. “Yuratchka, _please_ . I know you pursue the role of _prima ballerina_ for the sake of victory… but please, _please_ abandon it. I did not suffer for ten years just so you could make the same mistake I did!”

“I won gold because of that role!”

“You won gold because you are talented!” Laritha shot back. “You won the Grand Prix because you had Victor Nikiforov’s routine and the heart and passion of a Plisetsky. Yes, you won because of the training and the routine that woman gave you, sculpting you into the perfect work of art. But if you pursue that road even one year more, you will ruin your athletic career! Do you understand me?!”

Yuri’s eyes widened in surprise at the insistence in her tone, but then he shook his head and pushed her away.

“You don’t deserve to tell me what to do!”

Laritha straightened, her expression darkening. “I understand, Yuratchka. You have every right to be angry at me. Because I left you and Grandpa alone, worried you for ten years. Because I didn’t answer your calls or your letters. Because I--”

“WHY THE HELL DID YOU QUIT SKATING?!”

Laritha, stunned, fell silent. But Yuri, propelled by his anger at his sister, kept going. “You loved it more than anyone. More than me. I wanted to show you how good I was. I wanted to win, to be equal to you. But you never gave me that chance.” He paused, glaring defiantly back at her. “I don’t understand why you would quit the thing you love most.”

She winced, then straightened, turning away from him, and back to Yakov and Lilia. “I quit because there is more than one thing I love most… _Yuratchka_.”

“So why suddenly abandon your position as prima ballerina?” Lilia asked Laritha. “You were the star… everything every little girl dreams of.”

“I had more important things to do. My dreams are not yours. I am here for my brother only. So I restate my claim. Return him to me.”

Yakov crossed his arms. “Yuri is my student. He has no reason to ‘return’ to you at all.”

Laritha glared back at him. “He is bound to _you_ , but not _her_. I will not allow her to turn my brother into the monster she turned me into.”

“And what are you going to do? As Yuri has said, he has been made into the most powerful skater in Russia with the image of _prima ballerina_. Would you take that away from him?”

Laritha gritted her teeth, looking back at Yuri. “I will put myself out as a bet.”

She whipped back around, her hair flailing behind her. “I will prove to you that neither I nor Yuri need your help. If I fail, I will join Yakov Feldsman’s rink here, and cease to be your competition. I’ll do everything you ask me to. If I succeed, then Lilia Baranovskaya will never train a Plisetsky NOR a Plisetskaya ever again.”

Lilia’s lips twitched. She crossed her arms, looking as statue-like as ever. “Fine then. What is your challenge?”

“Last year, I remember seeing some kind of tournament in Japan between my brother and Yuuri Katsuki, yes? Where Victor Nikiforov choreographed two routines? Well, I would like the same kind of exhibition tournament-- but this time, it will be two choreographies. I will perform both of them. One choreographed by you, and one choreographed by Yuratchka.”

“WHAT?!” -Yuri

“Yuri? Choreograph something?!” -Yakov, said with incredulity.

“You bet yourself on a routine by someone who has relied on others his whole career? You are either braver or more foolish than I gave you credit for, Laritha Plisetskaya. Still, I accept your challenge,” Lilia answered. “I will prove that you were foolish to quit ballet-- that both you and Yuri are made to be works of art.”

Laritha shook her head. “You should hear the full challenge before you accept, Lilia. I had more terms.”

“I am not afraid.”

“There will be four judges to decide who is the winner. Two of them will be Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki. They already agreed to this. You may choose the other two. And finally: both of you will choreograph to one theme: ‘end of innocence’.”

There was a long pause, and then… “agreed.”

This came, surprisingly, not from Lilia, but from Yakov. His gaze was set, focused. “Yuri needs a routine before the Cup of China anyway. This might be useful for him.”

Laritha nodded. “Then it is set. I will take my leave now.”

She nodded curtly, then spun on her heel and made her way toward the door.

Yuri, who’d been watching this whole exchange, frozen in shock ever since she’d announced that _he_ would be choreographing a routine for _her_ , suddenly unfroze and ran after her.

“Hey, wait a minute, Laritha! Are you crazy?! I’ve never choreographed a routine in my life!” he shouted, following her out of the rink.

Laritha turned back to him, then walked over and put her hands on his shoulders. “I know you can do it, Yuratchka. It is all I can do to make up these past ten years to you: I am literally putting my life in your hands. If you don’t care about me at all, you can let me fail, and I would understand. But this is also your chance to prove that you are every bit the skater Victor Nikiforov is-- was. You don’t _have_ to depend on anyone else for your routines. You have every bit of creativity and passion he does, and you don’t have to be a _prima ballerina_ to do it. If you ask me to jump a quad flip, I will. If you ask me to skate to a routine so intense that I can’t breathe, I will do it. But _I_ will do it.”

“Why are you so insistent on this? Why would you appear back into skating just for this?”

Laritha’s eyes darted around, and she dropped her voice into a whisper. “I hated being a ballerina, Yuri. Do you understand that? I mean, I practiced ballet when I was still a child, but that is nothing compared to Bolshoi. Where the punishment for a misstep was a week without food, to ‘slim you down’. Where you must both be everyone’s friend and everyone’s enemy. Where a heart of ice is ideal. I permanently destroyed my body in order to become the precious doll of the ballet. I do not want you to do the same. I returned to figure skating only to ensure this.”

She straightened, her voice rising again. “You have such a bright future ahead of you, Yuratchka,” she declared, patting him on the cheek, “don’t waste it by ruining your body while you go through puberty. There is no reversing it after that.”

She gave his hair a little affectionate tug, the way she used to when he was four years old. He winced, automatically smacking her hand away. “Fine. I’ll choreograph your stupid program. But don’t… don’t expect too much.”

Laritha, for the first time since she’d appeared back into his life, smiled. “I expect you will be wonderful. You always have been.”

“...Whatever. I still don’t trust you, though. And I still don’t understand why you left _or_ why you came back all of a sudden. But I can’t turn down a challenge, not when that damn Pork Bowl is gonna be the judge. So you’d better be ready, Miss Ballerina. I’m not going to make it easy on you!”

“Of course.” But then her smile faded away, back into sadness. “You do not have to understand my reasons. Actually, maybe it is better if you do not. Just know that you will be fine as long as you stay in skating, where it will be safe for you. As long as you remain in the spotlight, ‘they’ can’t touch you. The press, your fans, and your success, are keeping you safe. That is all I care about.”

She patted him on the head, and then began to walk away, but Yuri shouted after her.

“Why are you suddenly so considerate of me, huh? You didn’t care about anyone but yourself for the past ten years-- why stop now?”

Laritha paused, but didn’t look back as she replied, “You’re the only person in this world I’ve allowed myself to love, Yuri. Even that is dangerous.”

And then she walked away, leaving him with more questions than answers, and a huge, impossible task looming ahead of him.


	3. Frozen Over

_End of innocence_ … what the hell did that even mean?! God, his damn sister was so much like that stupid Victor it was absurd.

But when Yuri said as much to his rinkmates a few hours after Laritha had left, they looked at him with confusion.

“WHAT?! What’s with those looks?!” Yuri shouted.

“Well, it’s just that I’m really not seeing the resemblance…” Mila said, looking skeptically at Victor, who was smiling excitedly and jabbering to Yuuri Katsuki about having a bath together.

Looking at Victor like _that_ , Yuri had to admit that she was kind of right-- Laritha, at least, hadn’t been quite so _annoying_ as Victor. But the similarities had nothing to do with that.

“That’s just because my sister isn’t a love-struck idiot. But they’re the _exact_ same. Come out of nowhere, snatch titles, and then go and mess with people’s lives out of some kind of self-gratification. This kind of challenge is _exactly_ the kind of thing that Victor would come up with!”

“He’s not wrong you know, Mila,” Victor interjected with a placid smile, suddenly interested in the conversation. “It’s exactly the kind of thing I would do. It’s why I didn’t hesitate to agree to be a judge when she asked me.” He leaned against the edge of the rink, looking up at Yuri with one eye.

Mila shrugged, then leaned over to tie her skates while she talked. “I mean maybe, but Laritha seemed so… cold. I saw her when she was walking away from the rink, and I tried to talk to her, but she didn’t respond. I saw her look at me, but she just looked away again and kept going as if I wasn’t even there. Number One: rude, and Number Two, she doesn’t have any expression when she skates. I mean, all of us have some thoughts while we skate, even if we’re not really the ‘get in character’ type-- ‘this is hard.’ ‘This is easy.’ ‘I did well on that jump’-- But she’s just blank. Everything is flawless, but empty. You know?”

They all looked at Yuri, but he immediately backpedaled. “WHAT?! I don’t know any more than the rest of you. I haven’t seen my sister since I was _five_ until now. For all I know she could be possessed by the devil.” He turned away, starting to do his stretches before he went on the ice. “Enough about my sister. I need to focus on her stupid challenge.”

“Hmm… what was it again?” Victor asked thoughtfully.

“‘End of Innocence’ is what she said,” answered Yuri.

“Ohhh, what an interesting one. Do you have a song in mind?”

Yuri grimaced. “All I can think of is rock music. It doesn’t really fit the theme.”

“Oh? Why not?”

Yuri hesitated, then shook his head. “Why are you so interested, anyway, Victor? Aren’t you one of the judges?”

Victor smiled enigmatically again. “I’m just curious, Yurio. I’m excited to see what you’ll create.”

~~

Skating practice led Yuri nowhere. His first priority was to win this competition his sister had cooked up, and no amount of rehearsals of Ina Bauers, triple salchows, or quad lutzes were going to help him choreograph anything. Not if he didn’t even have a song in mind.

Eventually he gave up, changing back into his day-to-day clothes and wandering away from the rink, through the city streets.

Somehow, Yuri found himself on the beaches around St. Petersburg, looking out over the sea. It made him think of Hasetsu, in Japan. It had been such a short trip, and a miserable failure. He’d lost completely to Yuuri Katsuki because of his own pride and inexperience. He couldn’t let that happen this time. He couldn’t bear that embarrassment.

Yuri stuck his hands in his jacket pockets and looked out over the ocean, letting the breeze rustle his hair. It was late summer, and people were still crowding the beaches for the last clamber for warmth before winter crashed down upon them like waves upon the shore. It was Yuri’s favorite part of the year-- it seemed like all the colors in the world were at their most vivid-- the ground, the trees, the sky, filling everything with as much color as possible before it would all be wiped away beneath a smooth white sheen.

 _End of Innocence_. He had to wonder why Laritha had chosen that particular subject. Was she trying to tell him something? Was she just trying to use him to come up with choreography for it because she couldn’t make it herself? No-- that was unlikely, based on the program he saw her perform during the Nationals. Her routine had been fierce, but cold. Just like Mila had said. He hadn’t seen any of the warmth he’d remembered from her while he was a child. Not a trace of the girl who had told him over and over again that the ice was a place to be free.

 _End of Innocence_. Like this moment of the year, when the people cling to warmth, as if they don’t know that winter is soon to come, ripping away all of the color and light, painting it all over into grayscale. If summer was innocence, then winter was harsh reality-- cold, destructive, unforgiving. It was fierce and unpredictable. Maybe his sister had been like that, too. When he’d known her, she’d been living in summer. But at some point in the past ten years, winter had hit, and frozen over all of the color in her heart.

Maybe the same thing would happen to him.

~~~~

It was late at night when Yuri got back to his apartment building near the rink (more of a dorm for Yakov’s skaters than anything), and he got an earful from Yakov about being out and about all day without telling anyone-- but didn’t really hear any of it. His trip to the beach had helped clear his head, and he thought he might be starting to understand, at least a little bit, of what Laritha’s theme meant. Maybe he was even coming to terms with Laritha herself.

Not that he was happy with it. But he’d never turned down a challenge in his life, and he wasn’t going to stop now. He was going to choreograph the most merciless routine Laritha had ever _seen_. It was going to come crashing down like winter, devastating all hope that he might suddenly have forgiven her.

Still, what _song_ should he use? Even after going to his room and listening to his entire music collection, researching past skaters’ musical selections, nothing seemed right. Nothing seemed to really capture what he wanted without seeming completely ill-suited for his sister. She was aggressive, but in an almost inhuman way. She was like a fairy-- impossibly powerful behind a delicately lovely exterior. Even though he’d talked to her face-to-face, he still wondered if it had actually happened. Nothing he had seemed to really capture that ethereal quality.

Frustrated, Yuri discarded his headphones and wandered to the kitchen to get something to snack on while he thought. He missed his grandfather’s pirozhkis-- even the katsudon ones inspired by Yuri’s trip to Japan. He’d tried making them himself, once, making a mess out of the kitchen but feeling self-satisfied. The reaction from Lilia and Yakov had been underwhelming, but he’d still been proud of himself.

He walked quietly, in case his rinkmates were already sleeping. It was late at night, after all, and he’d never hear the end of it if he woke that old hag out of her “beauty sleep”.

It so turned out that being quiet was unnecessary, because there was a considerable amount of noise coming from Yuuri Katsuki’s room. There was some music playing-- some kind of Japanese pop music, he supposed-- and Yuuri seemed to be chatting away with Victor.

To clarify something-- one of Yakov’s conditions in inviting the two of them to St. Petersburg had been that they stay in separate rooms, although he had not given them the reason why. But Yuri should have known that there was no way Victor or Yuuri would actually follow that rule, and here was some pretty good evidence of that.

Yuri did his best to tune out their voices as he walked by. He didn’t want to know what was going on in there. Based on his past experiences with them, it could be anything from cheesy flirtation to a straight-up stripdance. Nothing was out of the realm of possibility, especially if Yuuri Katsuki was drunk.

He shook his head, about to hurry past, when the song playing changed. The techno-sounding pop changed to a strange blend of heavy guitar and crying violin, and then women’s voices harmonizing, creating a song that sounded like desperation, darkness, and loveliness, all at once.

Yuri kicked the door open, rushing inside, looking around for where the music was coming from.

“EH? Yurio-kun, what are you--?!” Yuuri Katsuki (who was fully clothed, thank god) squeaked. It looked like he and Victor were looking at a book, perched on the edge of the bed, their hips touching.

Yuri ignored him, identifying the source.

“I need to borrow your computer.”

“W-wait, what?! Don’t you have your own?!”

“I NEED THIS SONG,” Yuri shot back, snatching the laptop and squinting at the screen, trying to decipher the Japanese lettering.

“Huh? But this song’s in Japanese…” Yuuri mumbled, standing up and taking back the laptop. “Are you sure?”

Yuri had been thinking about his trip to Japan at multiple points that day. The challenge and his failure at Hasetsu. His grandfather’s katsudon pirozhkis. In a way, Laritha had somehow become synonymous with Japan, even though he knew she had no association at all with the place. But it didn’t matter.

“I don’t care. I need it.”

“Alright, alright, hang on!” Yuuri sighed and set the laptop back in its spot on his desk, then pressed the button for the disk drive. It popped open, revealing a shiny gray copy disc. “My sister sent it to me from Japan,” he explained, holding it out to Yuri. “She didn’t want me to forget about some of her favorite anime while I was in Russia. I don’t know which song you’re thinking of using, but if it’ll help you, you can have it.”

Yuri grabbed the disc, then started toward the door. But he paused, squinting at Yuuri. “Isn’t it cheating if you help me?”

Yuuri shrugged, grinning impishly in a way Yuri sometimes thought was impossible for the man, except in rare moments. “It’s only cheating if Lilia asks me for a song, and I refuse. But we both know she won’t bother.”

He had to admit, Yuuri was right. Lilia was far too self-confident to even consider asking assistance from anyone, let alone Yuuri or Victor. In fact, chances were she’d had the song chosen almost the moment Laritha had declared her challenge. Yuri was already behind, and he knew it. He would have to do everything possible to beat that woman. Even if it meant doing the impossible.

He returned to his room, disc in hand. He stuck it into the computer, skipping through songs until it landed on the one he recognized.

He quickly downloaded the song onto his computer, then dialed up the number he’d been sent earlier that day.

Despite the late hour, the call was received. “Yes, Yuratchka? I’m surprised to see you call me. I thought you were still upset.”

Yuri gritted his teeth. “I _am_ . But I’m starting to figure out the choreography, and I need you here _right away_ tomorrow morning to practice it, alright? I don’t care what happened to you or what you’re keeping from me. For the time being, all I care about is winning this competition.”

There was a long silence on the other end, and then finally, “I will be there, Yuratchka.”

And then she hung up.

Yuri stared at his phone for a long while, then shook his head and moved on. He set his alarm for 5:00 am sharp, then downloaded the song from his computer onto his phone. Once completed, he jammed his headphones into the phone’s jack and slid them into his ears, flopping onto his bed while he listened to the music wash over him.

It wasn’t exactly lullabye music, but it was what was running through his mind when he finally fell asleep. But not before the program was starting to take shape in his mind.

He could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this one, you probably might not be able to guess, I think of as "Magia" by Kalafina, for the anime Puella Magi Madoka Magika (also composed by Yuki Kajiura).


	4. Privacy

Yuuri Katsuki fumbled for his phone in the dark to silence the alarm that had so rudely awakened him from his pleasant sleep. Finally he grabbed ahold of it, groggily turning the alarm off and sitting up, trying to force himself awake. He flicked on the light next to his bed, wincing from the sudden brightness, and looked again at the phone.

Right. 7:00 am. He wanted to get on the ice early, so that he wouldn’t impede too much on Yurio’s choreographing.

He glanced over at the other side of the bed, reminding himself that Victor wasn’t there only because he (Yuuri) had insisted they actually do as Yakov had commanded and sleep in separate rooms that particular night, after Yurio’s sudden intrusion into Yuuri’s room.

That really had been quite a surprise. They’d been looking at childhood photos of Victor that they’d found in his room, just absentmindedly listening to his sister’s CD, when suddenly the door had come flying open and Yurio had trudged in, demanding a song.

Yuuri had been quite surprised. He’d thought that Yurio was aggressive and a bit childish, at times, but he’d never really considered him blatantly impolite. But the song made a bit of sense. It was a bit of evidence for Yuuri that Laritha’s sudden appearance and subsequent challenge had _really_ shaken up the younger boy-- to the point of desperation. That, at least, Yuuri could understand. It had happened to him only a year before, changing his entire life.

He dressed quickly in his athletic gear, grabbed his skates, and headed to the rink, careful to tread lightly.

He’d probably focus on landing the jump combinations he was thinking of adding to his routine, just enough to solidify the foundation. And then he’d hurry off the ice whenever Yurio arrived.

To Yuuri’s surprise, though, the lights on the rink where already on when he came out of the locker room with his skates on his feet.

“No! Not like that! It doesn’t fit the song-- switch it to a quad lutz instead of a toe loop.”

“Yuratchka, please, you must stop _changing_ it every time. I am trying to understand, but I am not inside your head.”

Yuuri walked out to the rink in awe, amazed at how early the Plisetsky siblings must have been there-- it had clearly been a while, judging from how tired and sweaty from skating they both looked. They both seemed both mentally and physically exhausted, mostly from each other. Because of this, neither of them seemed to notice Yuuri.

“But didn’t you say that the song fit the theme really well and you understood the concept I was getting at?!” Yuri shouted with obvious frustration.

Laritha sighed, wiping the sweat off of her forehead. “I do-- the song is an excellent choice. Frightfully accurate, even. But I am only skating what you say you want. Perhaps we should try the refrain again? You seemed to have that part the best conceived.”

Yurio shook his head. “It needs to _build_. If I don’t get the beginning right then there’s no way that Victor is going to let it go. I need it perfect…”

“I will help all I can,” Laritha supplied, skating out to the middle of the rink. “We are partners in this, are we not?”

Yurio grimaced, then brushed his hair out of his face in annoyance. “Just try it again, okay?”

Laritha nodded, waiting for Yurio to hit “play” on the recording. The song from last night began roaring through the rink’s speakers, and Laritha immediately began skating at a rapid pace, whipping around when the music began, then again and again, twisting rapidly as she glided across the ice, as if she was looking for something around her. Yuuri had to admit, she made it look easy, since she’d only just started learning the routine. It was still rough, but she was picturesque, her blonde hair flowing out behind her wildly, even while she herself looked perfectly balanced.

But Yuri paused the music. “No, it still doesn’t look right! It needs to look more… afraid.”

Laritha pushed her own hair back away from her face in a gesture that, Yuuri couldn’t help but notice, mirrored her younger brother’s. “Maybe we should take a break, so that you may think.”

“But we don’t have time for that!”

Laritha’s expression hardened. “Then we will take a break right here on the ice. Five minutes only, so that I may catch my breath and you may clear your head.”

They glared daggers at each other for a while, and then finally, Yurio relented. He skidded forward until he was sitting down against the rink wall, crossing his arms and looking out at the ice. Laritha glided over, sitting down alongside him.

“Too close,” Yurio grumbled, and Laritha obligingly shuffled sideways to give him more room, while she took a drink out of her water bottle.

Yurio pulled out his cell phone, glancing at its screen. Suddenly, his face lit up, and a smile ghosted across his lips before he started rushing to type something on his phone.

This sudden change didn’t escape Laritha’s notice. “Oh, you have a message? Who is it from?”

“None of your business!” Yurio snapped, turning the phone away so that she couldn’t see the screen.

“I am not trying to invade your privacy, Yuratchka. I am only making small talk. If you do not want to tell me, you have the right to. But I am quite curious, after seeing a smile so suddenly on your normally sullen face.”

“It’s a… friend…” Yurio finally admitted, and even from the distance Yuuri was standing at, he could see the boy’s face redden. “Ota...Otabek Altin, a skater from Kazakhstan…”

“Kazakhstan?!” Laritha suddenly exclaimed, her eyes widening.

“Yeah, why? What’s wrong with it?!” he shot back defensively, cradling his phone, probably not even realizing he was doing it.

Laritha sat back against the wall again, relaxing. “N-no… it is alright, since he is a fellow skater… yes, it should be alright…”

This, to Yuuri, sounded more like she was convincing herself than she was convincing Yurio.

They were quiet for a while, before the silence seemed too overwhelming for Yurio, and he sat up and asked, “what about you?”

“Me? What do you mean?”

“I mean… do you have any friends from Bolshoi, or a coach, or anything? When I saw you at Nationals, it looked like you were there by yourself.”

Laritha looked away, admitting hesitantly, “I… have no friends.”

“None at all? Too busy with your job, huh?”

“...something like that,” she answered, then stood up. “We should be returning to practice, Yuratchka.”

“Stop calling me that, Laritha. The only people who call me ‘Yuratchka’ are Grandpa and my fans. It just sounds weird coming from you.”

“But I have always called you Yuratchka,” Laritha answered, sounding slightly indignant.

Yuuri couldn’t help but notice how easily she’d dodged the subject of her lack of friends, even as they started talking through the choreography again. Still, it had been a brief, but intimate moment. _Maybe,_ Yuuri thought, _they might be able to become close_.

“It’s rude to eavesdrop,” whispered a soft voice in his ear, causing a shiver down Yuuri’s spine.

“Victor!” he shouted in surprise, causing his fiance to smile, and for Yurio and Laritha to suddenly notice them from the skating rink.

“Hey, Pork Bowl, don’t you dare interrupt my skating practice with that lovey-dovey crap!” Yurio shouted.

Yuuri scowled at Victor. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop… they just seemed like…”

“Like they might be getting along?” Victor suggested, his gaze traveling to Laritha’s dance across the ice. “I thought so, too.” He paused, then seemed to change the subject. “Hey, Yuuri…”

“What?”

“Why did you agree to be a judge for the competition? Laritha asked us each through private messages on social media, so I didn’t see your reasoning.”

Yuuri shrugged, leaning over the rink wall and watching Yuri skate through the choreography he was trying to show Laritha. “I… don’t really know why. I guess I just felt that it might help me understand Yurio a bit better. And I think it has, a little bit.”

“Oh?”

“Well… I always wondered why Yurio-kun was so angry with you all the time, even though he clearly idolized you,” Yuuri said, feeling his face flush a bit. “I mean, a lot of people were upset when you quit to become my coach, but Yurio-kun seemed to take it like a personal insult. I wondered why, but.. I think it might have something to do with Laritha-san. I think maybe… you reminded him more of her than he even admits. Maybe… when you quit, it was the second time he’d been left before he could show his success to someone he cared about. Yurio-kun’s always trying to prove himself.”

Victor seemed shocked by this revelation, allowing his gaze to travel to Yurio, before finally muttering to himself, “Oh… I see…”

The two of them watched in comfortable silence as Yurio demonstrated choreography for his older sister, sailing gracefully across the ice, before she would copy him, often even adding her own flair. Yurio seemed pleased by this, adding extra movements and changing points of the choreography.

 _They’re actually creating it_ together _… I wonder if Yurio-kun even realizes it…_ Yuuri thought to himself with a slight smile.

“Laritha, I see you and Yuri have warmed up.”

Yuuri turned to see Lilia Baranovskaya, Yuri’s original choreographer, standing at the other end of the rink, her arms crossed, face as unmoving as ever.

Laritha dropped her toe-pick, sliding gracefully to a stop, glancing at Yurio. “Oh… is it that time already…?”

“I have your program choreographed already. Hurry up-- you only have two weeks to practice it.”

Laritha looked back at Yurio, whose expression had immediately returned to its usual sour scowl. “Whatever, it’s not like we’re getting anywhere, anyway,” he grumbled, stalking off of the ice. His route took him right past Victor and Yuuri, who he gave a sidelong glare as he slid past.

Victor held out Yurio’s skate guards with a smile. “It’s coming along well, Yurio.”

Yurio snatched his skate guards away, and slid them on without looking at Victor. “I’ll get it right. I will.”

It sounded plenty confident, as Yurio almost always was, but as he walked by, Yuuri saw a flash of Yurio’s true emotion on his face-- pained, frustrated, and disappointed. But it was gone in only a moment, allowing Yuuri to wonder if he’d seen correctly. But no-- he was sure of what he’d seen.

Yurio turned around, leaning onto the railing of the rink, watching as Laritha flowed through the motions of what Lilia was dictating.

Yuuri followed his gaze, wondering what Yurio thought when he saw his sister work with Lilia, who she seemed to so clearly despise, based on what she’d said when she’d issued the challenge. And yet, Yuuri had to admit, Lilia had a point-- Laritha was incredibly graceful, under her tutelage. In moments, she was floating gracefully across the ice like cherry petals across the early spring sky. Graceful, practical, effortless.

He glanced sideways at Yurio, whose expression grew more and more angry the longer he watched, before he finally spun around and stomped away toward the locker room.

Yuuri watched him go, and then looked curiously back at Laritha and Lilia.

It was true that Laritha suddenly seemed more beautiful, skating the routine that Lilia had put together. But she’d shifted completely. While she’d been working with Yurio, she’d been frustrated, true-- but she’d had visible shifts in emotion, playing gently across her face. Maybe they weren’t quite as readable as Yurio’s mood shifts were, but it was still noticeable.

But when she skated for Lilia, that all vanished. Her entire body stiffened, including her face. It seemed even like the light in her eyes had disappeared. Like her soul simply vanished.

Lilia clapped her hands, and Laritha came to an abrupt stop. “Enough,” Lilia demanded. “This won’t do. Tie your hair up immediately.”

Laritha obliged wordlessly, looking around for a hair tie.

Yuuri looked down and saw what looked like her bag (since it didn’t belong to any of Yakov’s team members, he was fairly sure). “Oh, Laritha-san, I think this is…” he called out, reaching down to pick it up.

It was much heavier than he’d expected, the zipper actually coming slightly undone from its own weight. As a result, he dropped it accidentally, and the bag came open the rest of the way, allowing him to see inside.

Hearing him speak, lifting up her bag, Laritha’s eyes became huge, and she shot across the ice immediately.

Too late.

Yuuri hadn’t meant to look at her personal belongings.

He really, really hadn’t.

He hadn’t meant to see anything he shouldn’t have.

He hadn’t meant to see a pair of pistols nestled in between a pair of pointe ballet shoes.

He hadn’t meant to see what looked like a box of bullets.

He hadn’t meant any harm. He’d just been trying to help.

Laritha snatched the bag away from him, her face filled with panic. Their eyes met, exchanging expressions wordlessly.

“Laritha, do not waste my time. Hurry and tie your hair up. I have better things to do with my time.

Quickly, Laritha reached into a side pocket and pulled out a hair tie, slid it onto her wrist, and then, very deliberately, zippered the bag closed, never once breaking eye contact with Yuuri.

She put it back down on its spot on the floor, and then spun around and went back to Lilia, tying her hair into a ponytail as she went.

_Laritha Plisetskaya was more complicated than Yuuri had imagined._


	5. A Look at the Past

Yuri Plisetsky scribbled out yet another piece of choreography in his notebook, finally tossing the pen aside and leaning back in his chair with exasperation.

He must have re-written every part of the choreography at least four times, none of it ever seeming to fit. It was a dark, dark song, but incredibly fast-paced, to the point where even he would have had difficulty performing it.

It helped that, at least, Laritha seemed to be able to perform every jump he was able to, with the same or a greater level of finesse. It was further proof to him that she clearly had not been neglecting skating this entire time-- no one who hadn’t skated in ten years would be able to pull off a quadruple toe loop on the fly. Not even someone as talented as his sister.

He tapped his finger on the desk, scowling down at the choreography. No matter how many times he re-wrote it, it never seemed perfect enough. It wasn’t dark enough, wasn’t afraid enough. Even if it had more jumps and tougher step sequences, this was a _choreography_ challenge. He had no idea who Lilia would choose as judges, but it would probably be people from dance studios, to counterbalance Laritha’s choice of professional skaters Yuuri and Victor.

Yuri closed his eyes, remembering earlier that day, when he’d watched Laritha practice with Lilia. It was a slow song-- an old Russian lullaby, which sounded beautiful, but eerie. It had suited Laritha perfectly, even when she practiced the movements for the very first time. Maybe his own song just didn’t _fit_ her very well.

His phone buzzed, interrupting his thoughts.

He brightened, seeing Otabek’s name as the contact. Talking to his friend always helped him calm down-- even more so over the past few days.

He opened the message, reading each word carefully.

_“You must have loved her a lot when you were a kid. It explains how you turned into a soldier.”_

It was a response to Yuri’s message earlier, explaining how confused he felt, now that his sister had shown up.

Yuri smiled at the image, laughing a bit inwardly at Otabek referring to him as a soldier-- the same way he’d described him the day they’d become friends.

 _“I don’t really remember_ ,” Yuri replied, “ _I was too young.”_

He stared at his notebook, waiting for a reply. It came quickly, and he hurried to look at the message.

_“Do you have any pictures from back then? I wonder how different you were.”_

Yuri paused, thinking. Actually, he wasn’t sure if he _did_ have any pictures. Oh-- wait…

 _“Hang on, I think I might_ ,” he texted back, before scrambling toward his closet. He dug through his multitude of jackets, skating outfits, and even his dry-cleaned dress suit, to find the shelves in the very back.

These he searched through recklessly, tossing irrelevant objects like old notebooks, scraps of paper, or empty CD cases to the floor.

Finally, he triumphantly pulled out an old, dusty photo album, buried in the very, very back of the closet, behind his elementary school yearbooks.

 _I almost forgot I had this_ , he thought, brushing the dust off of the cover. He opened it, revealing the photo album his grandpa had given him when he’d first moved to St. Petersburg to train with Yakov. It was the only family photo album he had-- full of pictures from when he was young, things he hadn’t thought about for a while.

The first page was labeled “Our Yuri is born!” in his mother’s handwriting. He smiled painfully to himself. He didn’t remember his mother-- she died even before he was old enough to walk.

But in the pictures, it was young Laritha holding baby Yuri in her arms, both of them beaming. In the first, she was standing, cradling him gently with one arm, the other being utilized to entertain him with a finger, which he seemed to be holding onto tightly with his entire hand. Considering that Laritha was only seven, then, he must have been a very small baby. Actually, he vaguely remembered Grandpa saying something about him being born prematurely…

In the second one, she’s sitting, pointing at the camera, and both of them are looking at the camera with a smile. He’s in a diaper, one hand full of a fistfull of her hair, which didn’t seem to bother her.

Embarrassed at seeing himself as a baby, Yuri flipped to the next page. It was Laritha at about the same age, wearing a skating outfit, holding a “gold” medal and grinning confidently at the camera. Apparently she’d given the medal to Yuri, who appeared in the next picture as a baby, trying to chew on it.

He skipped a few pages, looking for when he was a bit older.

There was a picture of Laritha and a friend, at a zoo with Grandpa. In the background there was a pair of polar bears. The caption at the bottom, in his Grandpa’s handwriting, this time, said, “the girls go to the zoo. Yuri gets in trouble at the aquarium.”

The second part of this was explained by the second picture, which demonstrated toddler Yuri seeming to be climbing into the stingray pool, narrowly rescued by Laritha, whose eyes were hilariously big as she snatched him away from the water.

The next page was a picture of Laritha and the same friend from before, sitting on a park bench under a tree in St. Petersburg. It must have been spring, because the tree was blooming. The two girls had sketchbooks on their laps, but didn’t appear to be using them, instead laughing to each other with blushes on their faces. The caption read “Laritha and Tasha, friends forever”, in what must have been Laritha’s handwriting, since it didn’t belong to Grandpa or either of Yuri’s parents.

Yuri looked closer at Tasha’s face, trying to remember this close friend of Laritha’s. She seemed familiar, but he couldn’t really place why-- he must still have been practically a baby back then.

The next picture seemed to explain this-- it had moved from spring to winter, at one of the big outside skating rinks in Moscow. The caption read, “Laritha takes little Yuri skating for the first time! (picture taken by Tasha)”. In it, both Plisetsky siblings were all bundled up against the cold-- especially Yuri. Laritha, in the picture, seems to be calling to him from further in the background. Yuri was skating toward her determinedly, but in the process of falling.

The next picture is him face-down on the ice, getting worried over by Laritha, who seems to be trying not to laugh. The caption read, in Laritha’s handwriting, “How cute! Yuratchka fell over a lot, but his winter gear cushioned him. But he’s a tough little ice tiger-- never cried, even once!”

Yuri paused at this picture, then grabbed his phone and snapped a picture of the page, sending it in a text message to Otabek. “ _Oh, I just remembered that Laritha’s the one who gave me the nickname ‘Ice Tiger’..._ ”

He looked again at the album, sitting down at his desk as he skimmed through the next few pictures. Laritha and Yuri sitting on the floor at their home in Moscow, looking at a picture book Laritha is reading aloud. More pictures of Laritha with her school friends, or while skating, or practicing ballet. Yuri, five years old, at his first skating competition, looking proud of himself, followed by a picture of Laritha hoisting him onto her shoulders and skating around the rink in celebration.

It was a warm childhood. He’d almost forgotten about it, as focused on skating as he’d been for the past… how long had it been?

But in the next few pictures, Laritha disappeared, and Yuri seemed to be the only one featured, since Grandpa was taking the pictures.

It sent a stab of pain through his heart, remembering how hurt and confused he’d been, as a child who hadn’t understood. She’d vanished, and he’d asked Grandpa so, so many questions, like when she’d be coming back. Where she’d gone. Could he visit her. Grandpa had refused to answer all of them, or had always changed the topic.

That’s when he’d thrown himself into skating, even though he was only six years old-- it was as if he’d thought back then that if he skated well enough, she’d come back.

 _“Maybe I_ was _a bit different back then,”_ he sent back to Otabek, closing the photo album.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yuuri Katsuki paced down the dorm hallway, kind-of-sort-of headed toward the room that had been made Laritha Plisetskaya’s in a sudden announcement by Yakov that it was ridiculous to expect her to commute from her expensive hotel to the rink every day until the challenge, since she could just stay with the rest of them.

Yakov, though, hadn’t seen the contents of Laritha’s bag. Yuuri and Victor had. They hadn’t said anything when the announcement had been made, nor had they said anything while they watched her cart her (surprisingly small) luggage into the room, before returning to the rink to practice with Lilia. They (or, at least, Yuuri), had been too afraid to. And they _definitely_ hadn’t told Yurio.

Yuuri wasn’t sure if he should confront her about it, or if he should just pretend he hadn’t seen anything. He wasn’t sure, based on the way Laritha had looked at him when she took the bag away from him. She hadn’t looked angry that he’d seen, or as if she were threatening him to never speak of what she’d seen. She’d merely looked purely and evidently terrified. As if _begging_ him not to tell anyone.

He had no idea why she would be casually carrying a pair of _guns_ with her. He’d figured out, from her avoidance of Yurio’s questions, and her blank-faced skating routines, that Laritha had some kind of painful past, but “Russian Femme Fatale” hadn’t exactly been included in the equation. Or maybe she just carried it for self-defense.

But then why hadn’t she told him that right away? He just didn’t understand. As much as he tried, he couldn’t. Laritha, at least with Yurio, had seemed so gentle and casual. Not somebody who would carry a _pair_ of deadly weapons with her.

He paused in front of her room, his fist raised to knock, but then pulled it away again, walking back toward his own room.

 _No, no no no, too scary. I can’t be in a women’s room, even if it_ is _someone who carries a gun! I don’t know what the Russian laws for this are… or… or if she’s a criminal! But if she is, then wouldn’t it be dangerous to let her stay by Yurio?!_

“Yuuri?”

He looked up to see Victor looking at him quizzically from the end of the hallway. “I-I, um… I thought you had something you needed to do today?!” Yuuri blurted out, his eyes traveling to Laritha’s door.

“I did…” Victor answered, following Yuuri’s gaze. “Laritha-san asked me to come talk to her when everyone else was gone. Did she message you, too?”

“E-eh? Not that I…”

Yuuri pulled open his phone, and noticed a notification. Oh-- Laritha _had_ messaged him.

“ _Once everyone is gone out to dinner, like Georgi promised after losing his bet, I hope to talk to the two of you. I’m sure you have many questions._ ”

That was comforting, at least. And not having to confront her alone was helpful, too. At least if he died he wouldn’t be dying alone.

He swallowed, then gathered his courage and knocked on the door.

It swung open, revealing Laritha, still in her practice gear. She poked her head out into the hallway, looking around. “Good, I am glad you have come.”

She ushered them inside, and Yuuri and Victor nervously walked in.

She shut the door behind them, and locked it, urging them, “sit, sit. This may take some time.”

There were a pair of pillows on the floor, to which she pointed. Obligingly, Yuuri and Victor sat, stealing glances at her while she bustled around the room.

“I have made tea-- it may help you relax after what you saw earlier,” she said, bringing over a tray of cups filled with still-steaming liquid.

Finally she sat down, on the floor in front of them, holding her own cup of tea. “Before I begin, I must plead you to not tell anyone any of this-- especially not Yuri. Any knowledge of my activities could endanger him.”

“So why are you telling us?” Victor asked, taking a sip of the tea.

Laritha pressed her lips into a thin white line, then finally answered, “Because I feel that the two of you are already endangered, so there is little for you to lose if you know.”

Yuuri’s heart sank, and he looked, wonderingly, to Victor. To his surprise, though, his fiance didn’t seem surprised. Actually, he even seemed expectant.

Yuuri wondered at this, but said nothing about it, instead turning back to Laritha, gathering his confidence. “You have a pair of guns in your sports bag.”

It wasn’t a question, but it demanded an answer.

Laritha sighed, sitting back and taking a sip of her tea. She closed her eyes, and pain ghosted across her face, before it returned to its usual blank mask.

Then, finally:

“I have been a member of a group resisting the Russian government ever since I was ten years old.”


	6. Laritha's Story

“When I was a young child,” Laritha began, “I had a close friend named Tasha. The kind of friend that just naturally becomes close to our hearts because they are close to our person-- that is, she was next door, and I adored her. Perhaps, I even could have loved her, had we grown into adulthood together. But we didn’t.”

 

_Moscow, fifteen years ago:_

_The air was still chill, but the wind had stopped stinging their cheeks when they walked down the street from school. It was the first evidence that spring really_ was _coming, after the cold rage of the Russian winter._

_“You should see little Yuratchka,” Laritha giggled to her friend, stepping a bit closer. “He is such a trouble to my parents! And he cannot even walk yet.”_

_Tasha was a girl slightly older than Laritha, with dark brown hair cut in a cute bob and warm gray eyes half-concealed behind bushy black eyebrows that only added to her charm. “You will have to stop being so willful, Laritha,” she giggled, wrapping her arm through the younger girl’s, “You must become responsible.”_

_“I didn’t think I would have a younger brother…” she replied, hesitating. “Will I do a good job? Will he like me? What if he doesn’t like me?”_

_Tasha smiled, in that warm, ever-amused way she always seemed to. “If you keep obsessing over him, he might not.”_

_~~~~_

_Moscow, twelve years ago (winter):_

_“Yuri, do you want to go and skate with your sister?” Tasha asked Yuri, who was clutching the bottom edge of Laritha’s coat for dear life, shuddering in his skates. It was cold, despite the layers of clothing he was wearing, that his grandpa had insisted on._

_“Maybe I should show him, first,” Laritha laughed, leaning over to look him in the eye, despite her skates. “Stay here with Tasha, alright? Just watch me for a while. I’ll show you what to do.”_

_Reluctantly, Yuri let go of her coat, allowing her to push off of the edge of the rink and through the small crowd of people on the ice, demonstrating her skills. Basics, like figure-eights, leg lifts, or some backwards skating. People seemed to give her some distance, as if they wanted to give her a stage for her performance, despite the public place._

_Slightly out of breath, she skated back to Yuri. “So? What do you think, Yuratchka?”_

_He looked back out over the ice, then back at Laritha, with a sense of childlike wonder that looked ever-so-adorable on his little three-year-old face. Then, with a determined scowl, he pushed away from Tasha and tried to walk toward his sister._

_He slipped, falling forward. Undisturbed, he tried again._

_“You’re doing very well!” Laritha encouraged, meaning it. He actually had fairly good balance on his skates, despite only being a toddler. He was, at least, moving toward her, even when he fell._

_“He is just too cute-- I am taking a picture!” Tasha shouted from the edge of the rink, even as he fell again._

_Finally he reached Laritha, looking no worse for wear, despite his deeply pink cheeks, from embarrassment rather than cold._

_“This is hard,” he grumbled, but didn’t seem as if he was going to cry, like many of the other children at the rink had when they’d fallen._

_“Do you want to stop?” Laritha asked him, “or do you want me to teach you?”_

_He looked past her, at the other people skating. “Is it okay? Won’t it be too hard to teach me?”_

_She laughed. “Of course not! I wanted to share it with you because skating is my favorite thing in the world, Yuratchka!”_

_“Why?”_

_She paused, not actually knowing the answer. She hadn’t put that much thought into_ why _she loved skating… just that she_ did _. “Well… because on the ice, I’m free!”_

_“Free? Then can’t you be free on the ground?”_

_Again, Laritha paused. For such a young child, Yuri was pretty astute. “Maybe you’ll just have to skate for yourself in order to understand. Here, let me show you. Take my hand, okay, Yuratchka? If you fall, I’ll help you back up.”_

_~~~~_

_Moscow, twelve years ago (spring):_

_“Tasha, why do people kiss?” Laritha asked her friend. They sat on a park bench, enjoying the spring sunshine. They’d long given up on their assignment for art class, and were instead chatting with each other aimlessly. Especially now that Grandpa had taken a picture of them, but then had been called to help with Yuri._

_“Why? Is it not because they love each other?”_

_“But in the movies, they say ‘I love you’, and then they kiss. If a kiss is a way to tell someone you love them, why say it twice?”_

_Tasha thought for a while, then confidently answered, “It must because they love each other so much that they must say it twice!”_

_Laritha contemplated this, closing her sketchbook and setting it down next to her. “But when is it a good time to kiss? How much do you have to love someone before it is okay to kiss them?”_

_“I don’t know if that’s something you can put a number on, Laritha,” Tasha answered, laughing. “Besides-- I am only two years older than you. How am I supposed to know?”_

_Laritha leaned closer, looking serious. “You have never been kissed, then, Tasha?”_

_“Of course not! I spend all of my time with_ you _. And I would never have it another way.”_

_“Then would you kiss me?”_

_“...what?”_

_“I don’t understand why everyone is so upset about. I kissed my brother very much when he was a baby, but now that he is growing older, they say that it is improper. I love Yuratchka very much… but I mean nothing disgraceful by it. I merely feel as if he was my gift. I lost my mother, and so I was given my brother instead. I want to show him all of the love he will not have from our mother. That is why I wonder.”_

_Tasha was serious for a moment, and then burst out laughing. “Kisses are only for people outside your family, silly Laritha. Unless they’re babies.”_

_“So then… would I kiss you, Tasha? Since I do hold you so close to my heart, but you are not my family.”_

 

Laritha’s breath hitched at this part, but she continued on, swallowing hard. “Tasha kissed me on a park bench, almost as a challenge. It was innocent. I was only ten, and she, twelve. We did not think there was anything wrong with it. And there _wasn’t_.”

_It was late at night when the Officer knocked on the door of the Plisetsky home, asking Grandpa if his granddaughter, Laritha, was present._

_“Has my granddaughter done something wrong?” he asked, incredulously._

_The Officer didn’t answer. “If she could come to the door, please.”_

_“She and her young brother have just gone to bed, sir. If this is not an emergency, can it wait until tomorrow?”_

_“Grandpa? Is there a guest here?” Laritha asked, stepping out of her bedroom curiously._

_The Officer saw her, stepping around Grandpa into the house. “Laritha Plisetskaya, are you friends with a girl named Tasha Vasylyuk?”_

_Laritha nodded, nervously. “Y-yes… she is our neighbor. We have been friends for as long as I can remember.”_

_He looked down at her impassively. “Has she tried to corrupt you in any way?”_

_“Corrupt me?!” Laritha remarked incredulously. “Of course not! Tasha has done nothing but care for me.”_

_He crouched down to her level, then sighed. “Laritha Plisetskaya, your friend Tasha has to be taken away for a while. She appears to be very ill. We wanted to make sure you are not also ill.”_

_Laritha blinked. “I do not feel ill. Tasha seemed very healthy when I saw her. Where did she go?”_

_Again, the officer’s face was impassive. “She will be receiving medical help. Do not worry. But if you may not see her again. Curing Tasha’s illness may take some time.”_

_Laritha felt her heart quicken. “I… may never see Tasha again?”_

_“Probably not, no.”_

_At this moment, Grandpa stepped in. “If I may, Officer, is that all you needed from Laritha?”_

_The officer stared at her eye-to-eye, unblinkingly, for a long moment, as if trying to find something in her gaze. But finally he stood up, turning away from her, and back to Grandpa._

_“No, that is all. You may go to bed now, Laritha.”_

 

“I did not go to bed, as the Officer told me to,” she explained, sipping her tea. “I instead sat just inside the doorway to my room, listening to what he was saying to Grandpa. I was under suspicion for homosexuality, he told my grandfather. That the blame was not on me, but on Tasha, since she was older, and knew more than me. I knew better.”

Laritha clutched her teacup tightly, almost so much that Yuuri was afraid it would break. “The next day, I went to ask her parents what had happened. They would not look at me. And then, a few weeks later… Tasha’s face was on the news. She’d died from an ‘accidental drug overdose while at the hospital. I knew better.

“I was ten years old when my best friend was ripped away from me by horrid laws that would incriminate a child because of a kiss. Maybe older than me, but still a child. Nobody would tell me the truth, but I could hear it in whispers-- at the funeral, at school.” She paused, setting the cup down. “Two days after the funeral, I joined the Resistance group. I will not tell you how-- it is a complicated and dangerous process, especially when you are as young and naive as I was-- but I did it to keep Tasha’s memory alive. It was my last promise to her. I would change this country in whatever way I could, so no one else would disappear the way she did. Not my brother, nor the two of you.”

She eyed them carefully, seeming to be waiting for a response.

“But you didn’t quit skating until you were twelve, right?” Victor finally asked, breaking the silence.

Slowly, she nodded. “My story does not end there, of course. You see, when I joined this resistance group, I was still somewhat naive. I thought, as long as I could keep it a secret, I would be the only one in danger. That as long as Yuri and Grandpa did not know what I was doing, they would be safe from me.”

 

_Moscow, eleven years ago:_

_There were children even younger than Laritha in the Resistance, but they were usually those whose parents had been members for some time-- only Laritha had come to them voluntarily, so young._

_Her jobs started off small, just like the other children. Mainly passing information. Today, she was supposed to pass a note to a foreigner at a street corner on her way home from school._

_She saw her target-- a small Korean woman with red streaks in her hair, looking lost._

_“What are you looking for, Miss?” Laritha asked, seemingly innocently._

_“Oh, yes… I am looking for a flower shop,” she answered, in careful English._

_Good. The agreed-upon answer._

_“If you go down the street and turn left at the big blue and yellow sign, there will be a lovely flower shop. They sell bouquets in every color. Here-- I have their business card.”_

_Laritha held the card out to the lady, who took it with a smile. “Oh, thank you very much, Miss. You’ve been very helpful.”_

_Laritha nodded, continuing on her way._

_She hadn’t noticed her classmate, Yosef, watching her from across the street._

_“Laritha!” he shouted, quickly crossing the road and walking with her, holding a popsicle in one hand._

_She froze, hoping the code-- and the rough English she’d been using-- had been enough to conceal herself._

_“You’re very good at English!” Yosef remarked, falling into step with her._

_“Yes… well… I’ve been learning it in school, so…”_

_“And you know the area so well, too! A flower shop. If I wanted to get you a flower, Laritha… should I go there?”_

_Laritha raised an eyebrow. “Why would you get me a flower, Yosef?”_

_“Because you are very pretty, Laritha. And pretty girls are even prettier when they are holding something pretty.”_

_Laritha rolled her eyes, but felt slightly pleased. “I am flattered, Yosef. But I must go home now. My brother has his first skating tournament today and I absolutely cannot miss it.”_

_“Oh… that’s right… well… goodbye.”_

 

_“Laritha! Can we eat lunch together?”_

_“Laritha! Are you really a champion skater?! That’s amazing!”_

_Yosef had attached himself completely to her. She’d been wary at first, checking repeatedly to make sure he wasn’t some kind of informant for the authorities, trying to locate the Resistance. But eventually she’d relaxed. He was a charming boy, always eager to please. He could cook well, and was always trying to get Laritha to eat what he brought to school._

_“Yosef, I must maintain my weight,” Laritha laughed, pushing aside the tray of almond cookies dusted with powdered sugar. “If I am to continue winning.”_

_He leaned over, looking conspiratorial. “Um, look, Laritha… I know you, um… do some things for people. Can you--”_

_Laritha jumped up, slapping her hand over his mouth. “Yosef!” she squeaked, realizing immediately how suspicious she looked, and stepping away. “It is supposed to be a surprise for Yuratchka-- do not go telling the world!”_

_He seemed confused, then realized what she was doing. “O-oh! I almost forgot it was a secret! I’m sorry, Laritha! I’ll make it up to your brother, I promise! But only if you accept this!” he argued joyfully, holding out a flower._

_Sighing, Laritha took it, thinking that he was so forward for a boy of only eleven years._

 

“A few days later, Yosef was arrested for distributing ‘terrorist propaganda’. Because the Korean lady had gotten caught. But she had refused to identify her source-- me. Instead, the authorities questioned any witnesses of the exchange… meaning Yosef. He, also, would not name me. He was such a lost puppy, that boy,” she joked, even though her voice betrayed her true emotion.

“Until then, I had thought that people close to me would be safe as long as they were ignorant. But Yosef had known nothing, and yet he suffered, because of me. That is when I made my decision. As long as I remained a member of the Resistance, I could not be with my family. As much as I loved Yuratchka… I endangered him simply _because_ I loved him.

“At this point, Yuri had shown so much talent and love for figure skating that I could not possibly taint the ice. It broke my heart to leave, but I had to. I needed to go somewhere to be self-sufficient, so I could work without issue, without relying on Grandpa. This is why I went to Bolshoi. Skating and ballet were all I had ever known. And if I was able to travel, I could be even more useful to the organization.”

“Then why… why not quit the Resistance instead?!” Yuuri asked, incredulously, still thinking of the guns nestled inside her gym bag, only a few meters away.

She stared at him coldly. “If I had quit… then nothing would change. I wanted to protect Yuri’s innocence as long as I could. And I would be saving the lives of so many people, as long as I succeeded. But yes, it was painful. I learned that to love was to put people at risk. To succeed in Bolshoi, love was a monster. To survive in the Resistance, love was an enemy. I could never let go of my love for my brother-- he was, after all, my only motivation throughout those years. I loved watching him on the TV, in the rare moments when I had free time. I was proud to see him succeed. But I allowed myself to love no one else. I could not put them at risk.”

Victor stretched, then stood up. “And that’s all a true story?”

“Every word,” she answered.

“Then why come back now?” he asked, nonchalantly.

A long pause. And then:

“I would always go late at night to a skating rink in the bad part of Moscow, every time Yuratchka had a competition. I would always copy his routines,” she added, with a bit of embarrassment. “At the very least, it was proof that I had done the right thing-- stepped away so that he could shine. Until last year, when I saw his program as the role of ‘prima ballerina’, and his close relationship with the two of you. Everything changed because of that.”

“So you came back for the same reason you left?” Yuuri summarized.

“Exactly.”


	7. Family Bonding

Yuri tossed another crumpled piece of paper into the garbage can and plunked his face onto his desk. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he was exhausted. He hadn’t really had a good night’s sleep in a few days, trying to create the choreography. They had a shallow outline of the jumps to do, but the performance elements were extremely lacking. They were the things that tied the whole program together, so he needed to figure them out. 

“No ideas. Nothing. How did I go from Victor’s stupid ‘Agape’, with its obsession with innocence, to the exact opposite?!”

He flicked his pencil, watching it spin across the surface of the desk and then tumble onto the floor. Grumbling, he sat up and stretched his arms, then forced himself to stand up.

He’d go get himself some food from the kitchen. He’d left himself a portion of chocolate pudding in the fridge. Maybe some sweets would help his creativity. At the very least, doing  _ something _ was better than sitting in front of his notebook and trying to force ideas out of his head.

“Oh, Yurio…”

Yuri jolted at Yuuri’s voice, then calmed down. “Oh. It’s you, Pork Bowl.”

Then a distinct, acrid scent tickled his nostrils.

“Are you BURNING something?!”

Yuuri winced, then gave an embarrassed smile. “Ah, well. Victor said that he missed the katsudon from back home, so I tried to make some… but… I’m so used to having a rice cooker that I didn’t really know how to cook the rice in a pot, so it burned a bit.”

Yuri, holding his nose, looked down at the brown-black mess that was apparently supposed to be rice. “A bit? I can’t wait until you and Victor move back into his apartment. Next time you try to cook you’re going to burn down the whole dorm!”

Still embarrassed, Yuuri laughed. “Oh, well, it won’t be too much longer. Victor brought almost all of his belongings with him to Hasetsu, since he wasn’t sure if he’d be moving back. So we don’t really want to move back until it’s furnished again.”

Yuri continued staring at the burned disaster. “Ah. I see.”

“Yurio-kun… are you okay?”

“What? Of course I’m okay! Don’t ask stupid questions!”

Then, from the doorway, “Yurio still can’t choreograph his sister’s routine, and it’s bugging him!”

Yuri turned around to glare at Victor. “I don’t need commentary from  _ you _ ,” he growled.

In response, Yuuri frowned curiously. “Is it the concept you’re not getting?”

“Kind of… maybe… I don’t… really know,” Yuri finally admitted.

Yuuri thought for a moment, then slapped his fist against his palm. “Oh! I know! Why don’t you watch the anime!”

“The… anime?” Yuri asked, almost wondering if the answer was worth finding out.

“Right! That song comes from an anime called ‘Puella Magi Madoka Magika’. I haven’t seen it myself, so I couldn’t really tell you what it’s about, but maybe watching the show will give you some inspiration!”

Victor smiled intruding into the kitchen and hugging Yuri, who instantly tried to push him away, failing. “Oh, that’s  great idea!! Let’s watch an anime together!”

“H-hey! Nobody said you were watching it with me! And I never agreed to this!”

But Victor was already pulling him away toward the dorm’s lounge, where a large TV hung on one wall. Most of the time they just used it to review their performance tapes, but apparently now it was time to watch a Japanese cartoon. Oh, joy.

Yuuri walked into the lounge, followed by Laritha. “I brought your sister, Yurio-kun. I thought she’d want to see it, too.”

Laritha sat down in the small chair on the far side of the room. “I’m not sure about that, but if Yuri agrees then of course I’ll watch.”

Yuuri and Victor both turned to stare at Yuri. And stare. And stare.

“FINE!” he conceded, plunking into the center of the couch. “I’ll watch it.”

“Alright!!!” Victor cheered, settling down onto the couch on one side of Yuri, while Yuuri took the other. 

“Get away from me!” Yuri shouted, kicking Yuuri off the edge of the couch. There was a thud as Yuuri hit the floor, then groaned and rolled to his feet, rubbing his shoulder where he’d hit the floor. 

As he got up, he noticed Laritha in the far chair. “Oh… Laritha-san, are you sure you want to sit so far away? You can have the spot on the couch next to Yurio, if you want. Since he doesn’t want to sit next to me.” He laughed a bit, then turned back to Yuri. “Is that okay? Yurio-kun?”

Yuri shrank down into his seat, grumbling, “I just don’t want to get sandwiched between you two and your disgusting lovey-dovey charade.”

“O-oh…” Yuuri answered, his face reddening. “Then… I’ll just sit here!” he suggested, plopping down on the floor in front of Victor’s feet. “And Laritha-san can sit on the couch.”

There was some flirting going on from Yuri’s left side, which he forcefully ignored in favor of looking to his right, over at his sister. She looked hesitant, but eventually sighed and stood up, making her way over to the couch. “I’m sorry this is becoming such a big deal, Yura-- I mean… Yuri.”

“It’s fine,” he grumbled as she settled herself down, carefully tucking her legs underneath herself. “I’m used to it from these two idiots. Let’s just watch this stupid cartoon.”

Laritha chuckled. “Oh they’re not bad. They seem to care about you, at least.”

Yuri grimaced. “If you say so.” 

Eventually Yuuri and Victor decided to focus on the task, and a computer was hooked up to the TV with which they managed to find a place to watch the show.

The icon for the show popped up on the screen, and Yuri raised his eyebrow at the ridiculously cute-looking main character. “I thought this was supposed to be a  _ dark _ show. This doesn’t match the song at all!”

“Just wait!” Victor remarked, smiling and wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders.

“Victor… have you seen this show before?” Yuuri remarked, sounding a lot more surprised than Yuri felt.

“Oh, of course! I watched it with Mari while we were staying in Hasetsu!”

Yuri rolled his eyes and settled back against the back of the couch. “Whatever. Just hit play already.”

The show started, with the pink-haired girl running along a very bizarre-looking black and white hallway. And then the song started playing, giving Yuri some hope that maybe this would actually be helpful. A dark monster, buildings flying around… not bad, so far. He could do without the cute cat-like creature, but whatever.

...and then they were back to cutesy stuff.

The show was apparently a “magical girl anime”, where young girls get powers to defeat the power of evil. Cliche much?

He raised his eyebrow, but sat back and watched. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced over at Laritha. She was focused entirely on the show, but her face was expressionless.

He turned back to the show, annoyed by its cuteness. This didn’t seem to fit the theme he was going for at  _ all _ .

“Oh, movie night, huh!” 

It was Mila, leaning over the back of the couch behind Yuri. “whatcha watching?”

Yuuri explained, plus what they’d seen so far, but Mila didn’t seem to quite understand. “Do you want us to start over?”

There was more fuss, with restarting the episode, and Mila situated herself on the arm of the couch on Victor and Yuuri’s side.

“Oh, you can sit on the couch if you want, Mila…” Laritha offered. “I can move over.”

Mila shook her head. “Nah, this is comfier. Now play!”

The entire first episode again. The credits rolled, and Yuri was even more sure that this show was ridiculous. He stood up, announcing, “this is stupid. I’m leaving.”

But Victor grabbed his arm, pulling him back down. “Just wait!”

“I’m sure it will get better, Yura-- Yuri,” Laritha attempted.

He sighed, consigning himself to more torture, and waited for the next episode to start.

More cute garbage. The scenes with the witches reminded him of some of these creepy cartoons he saw as a kid. But whatever.

...and then Georgi showed up, and they had to start the show over.

...and then there was a pause so someone could go make popcorn. Yuri made sure it was NOT Yuuri.

“Laritha-san, are you comfortable? Do you want a blanket or anything?” Yuuri asked.

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. But if I could get fruit instead of popcorn, that would be nice.”

“Umm, yeah, sure. I’ll tell Victor.”

Yuri gave Laritha an odd look. Was it just him, or was she getting along with Yuuri and Victor pretty well? 

At the end of the third episode, they had to pause because everyone was staring at the screen with horror. 

“Now THAT’S what I’m talking about!” Yuri shouted after one of the main characters had very suddenly gotten her head bitten off by one of the monsters.

“That would be a lot more convincing if you weren’t clinging to your sister,” Mila remarked flatly.

Yuri suddenly realized that he had his arms around his sister’s neck and quickly detached from her, feeling his face heat up. “I wasn’t scared!”

“It’s okay, Yuri… doesn’t think kind of fit the theme you thought of?” Laritha encouraged.

“O-oh. Right.”

Pretty much the entire show was downhill from there. It went from cute magical girls fighting evil to a show about death and getting twisted and going crazy.

Every few episodes they would have to pause so Victor could cry about a character death or so that Mila could try to update Georgi, who seemed really put out that there wasn’t any romance. Apparently he was there watching the show with them because he was supposed to go on a date, but she’d canceled because of illness and he was feeling lonely.

During one of these pauses, Yuri’s cat decided to make his way to the living room, hopping onto the couch. He paused at Yuri, then walked over and sat down in Laritha’s lap. She seemed surprised, but smiled gently.

“I suppose he likes me,” she suggested, stroking its long fur. 

“Do you like cats?” Yuri asked her.

“Oh… of course… do you not remember? We had a cat that looked much like this one when you were very little. But she was very old when you were born, and died not long after that. You cried quite a bit when Grandpa took her body away.”

“I don’t remember that!”

Laritha laughed, stroking the cat’s fur. “No, I suppose not. You were very young.”

The next episode started, and Yuri and Laritha quieted so that they could watch. Now that the show was getting pretty dark, Yuri didn’t find it so bad. He definitely hadn’t expected it to go the direction it had, but he could see where the song he’d chosen to choreograph fit in.

“Hey, hey, Laritha, which character is your favorite?” Victor asked mid-episode.

“Um… well… I do not know about ‘favorite’... but I feel very strongly for Kyoko.”

Across the couch, Mila raised an eyebrow. “Really? The one with the nasty personality who steals food and only bothers protecting people if there’s something in it for her?”

Laritha frowned. “It is not any of those things… it is her reasoning. She was naive when she became a magical girl. The others may have learned many lessons, but she is the only one who has been truly disillusioned. She has tried to help people, and has only suffered because of it. I… understand her, I suppose. That loss of hope. But she still hasn’t stopped fighting, despite it all.”

“Still a suspicious choice,” Mila scoffed.

“Um, guys, can we focus on watching the show?” Yuuri suggested wearily.

The group quieted again, although there was still some tension hanging in the air. Was it because of  _ Mila _ ? That was definitely weird. Yuri had never known that old hag to take anything besides skating very seriously, not even romantic relationships, so her attitude toward Laritha seemed a bit out of place.

He decided to ignore it for now and continue watching the show. They were getting close to the end, so he might as well finish it. He couldn’t really conclude anything without knowing how it was supposed to end. He just hoped it didn’t end the way the third episode had. He kind of wanted the characters to be at least a little happy in the end. Otherwise he’d just get depressed, feeling like there was no point in even attempting his sister’s challenge.

They watched the last few episodes in total silence, or at least as close to total silence as they could get through Georgi’s snores. The ending was pretty engaging, and Yuri took note of every time the song he was choreographing to appeared. What was happening at the time. 

As the final credits rolled, Yuuri turned to look up at Laritha. “After seeing the ending, I think you’re more like Homura-san than Kyoko-san.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yes! Because Laritha-san cares a lot about Yuri, even if he doesn’t remember.”

Silence. 

And then, from Mila:

“Oh? Where are you seeing that, Yuuri?”

Yuuri clapped a hand over his mouth, looking guilty of something.

Confused, Yuri looked around. “Hey, did I miss something?”

More silence.

Mila stood up, ruffling Yuri’s hair. “See ya tomorrow, Yuri! Everyone else, too!” and then disappeared.

Laritha, Victor, and Yuuri appeared to be exchanging glances, and Yuri was getting more and more annoyed by feeling like he was the odd one out.

“Hello? Care to enlighten me, you freaks?”

“Yuri… your phone just buzzed,” Laritha murmured, avoiding the question.

Yuri grumbled, but picked up his phone.

“Ah… it’s Beka…” he muttered, flicking to see the whole message.

“Oh… Otabek, right?” Laritha asked gently. “What does it say?”

“I have some time off,” Yuri started mumbling out loud, then, as he read the rest of the sentence, leapt to his feet, his eyes wide. “SO I DECIDED TO COME SEE YOUR EXHIBITION?!”

This woke up Georgi, who blinked up at Yuri. “Huh? What? Something wrong?””

Yuri felt like his head was going to explode. “ _ DON’T COME _ ” he typed out, but then erased it. He missed Otabek. It had been a long time since he’d seen his friend, and as stressed out and confused as he’d been feeling recently, he felt like maybe seeing Otabek might help him calm down. “ _ THANK YOU SO MUCH YOU DON’T KNOW HOW MUCH HELP THAT WOULD BE _ ” he typed again, before frantically erasing it, finally replacing it with “I’m not even the one skating so I don’t know what there’ll be to see, but it might be nice to hang out again.”

He put the phone back down on the table to take a deep breath to calm himself down, so that his face might return from its bright red state to his normal pallor.

But no sooner had he put his phone down than it buzzed again.

“ _ I’m actually getting on the plane later today, so I’ll be in Moscow by tomorrow _ .”

“I think I can see steam coming from Yuri’s ears,” Victor whispered to Yuuri, who scolded him.

Yuuri turned to look at Laritha with a panicked expression. “He’s coming to see the exhibition. Um… shit, I didn’t prepare for this. I need to go clothes shopping again!”

He ran out of the room, feeling frantic for a reason completely unrelated to his choreography. He was going to see Beka soon. He didn’t really know why, but that made him feel really happy, and really nervous, all at once.

Laritha watched him go, her expression tight, a very faint air of concern glancing across her features before she molded her face back into its typical cool mask.

Calmly, she stood up and followed Yuri down the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make it descriptive enough that even if you've never seen PMMM, you kind of know from previous chapters why Laritha feels the way she does. But I do recommend Puella Magi Madoka Magika! Way different from Yuri!!! On Ice, but I've got pretty diverse tastes in anime, lol.
> 
> Anyway, I hope this didn't go over anyone's head, and sorry for not updating in a while!


	8. Welcome to St. Petersburg

Yuri hurried to put his favorite leopard-print jacket on, fumbling with the zipper out of nerves. “Should I pick him up at the airport, or would that be weird?” he muttered to himself, managing to get the jacket closed.

He was so agitated that he didn’t hear Laritha come up behind him.

“Are you going out?”

He jumped, falling backwards into the mass of clothes he had pulled out of his closet before deciding that absolutely none of them were good enough.

Laritha watched this happen with slight amusement, then reached out to help him up. Red-faced, Yuri grabbed her hand and allowed her to haul him to his feet.

“Yeah. I’m going clothes shopping. Don’t wait up for me.”

“It’s  _ late _ , Yuri. Maybe you should go shopping tomorrow, instead.”

“Huh? It’s not la...te…” he glanced at the time on his phone, trailing off when he realized that it said it was past 23:00. “Did watching that cartoon really take that long?!”

Laritha nodded, then patted his shoulder. “Why do we not go shopping together tomorrow, instead? If we go out early, there will be plenty of time before your friend arrives, yes?”

Yuri eyed her suspiciously. “Why do  _ you _ have to come along?”

“I do not want you walking through St. Petersburg by yourself. It is not safe.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Laritha? I’m not a little kid! I’ve lived in this city for ten years and nothing’s happened to me.”

Laritha whispered to herself, just faintly enough for Yuri to have to strain himself to hear. “Not yet.”

“Huh?” he asked, not sure if he’d understood her. 

She shook her head, molding her expression back into an encouraging smile. “Never mind. I have business in town, too. I need to get costumes for the exhibition, do I not? I know a designer in St. Petersburg that has done some wonderful skating outfits. We should go. And while we’re in the area, we can go clothes shopping, and then go pick up your friend at the airport. Is that alright?”

Yuri thought about it, still watching Laritha suspiciously. Even though she was smiling, her face still looked completely blank to him. 

Finally he sighed and unzipped his jacket. “ _ Fine _ . We’ll go tomorrow. But don’t take frickin’ forever to pick your costume, okay?”

“Of course!” she grinned, for a moment looking genuinely happy, if relieved for some reason. “I will be as non-invasive as I can.”

 

~~~~~~

 

“WHY ARE  _ YOU TWO _ COMING ALONG?!” Yuri shouted upon realizing that Viktor and Yuuri were fully dressed and waiting for them by the door.

Laritha frowned guiltily. “They asked me what was wrong and I could not  _ lie  _ to them, so I told them. And, well, Viktor decided he was coming, and I thought it would be dangerous if Viktor got bored, so I asked Yuuri to come, too.”

Yuri glared at her, and she avoided his gaze. “I am sorry, Yuratchka.”

Yuri shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and walked past her, grumbling, “I told you not to call me Yuratchka.”

 

~~~~~~

 

They walked through St. Petersburg in near-silence, with Yuri walking ahead, the other three following behind.

It was a cool morning, although not cold, with sunshine streaming down over the city, glinting on shop windows, people’s coat buttons, and shimmering on Yuri’s blond hair.

Laritha smiled as they passed by a pair of schoolgirls on a bench, flipping through a photo album, and chattering in Russian.

“You seem happy, Laritha-san,” Yuuri noted.

“Yes… it has been some time since I was last in St. Petersburg. At the very least, a long time since I was able to walk its streets freely. I had forgotten how beautiful it was.”

Yuuri looked around at the city, trying to see it through Laritha’s eyes, considering all she had told them about her past. It was a bit contradictory, Yuuri thought, for Laritha to call the city beautiful, considering how much she seemed to hate her country. He’d thought Laritha would see everything as shrouded in darkness.

They paused when Yuri dashed into a bakery, complaining that he hadn’t eaten breakfast. Before anyone could follow, he’d disappeared into the store.

“I meant to ask, Laritha-san,” Yuuri began, still wondering about Laritha’s uncharacteristic joy, “if you hate Russia so much… why didn’t you leave?”

Laritha stepped away from Yuuri in surprise. “Why would you think I  _ hate _ Russia?”

“You don’t?” he asked, genuinely confused.

Laritha laughed, strolling down the street a bit farther and looking up at the sky. “Russia is my home, my people. As Prima of Bolshoi, I have traveled to many places, and yet I always find  _ this _ country more beautiful. I would be devastated the day I was no longer a Russian citizen. The anger I feel is not at  _ Russia _ , Yuuri.”

She paused, turning back to look at him, but dropping her voice. “I will tear this country apart with my own two hands if it means making the world a place where Yuri can be happy. It angers me that this country is not one where the two of  _ you _ can truly be happy, either-- but I hope I can make it so. I will break as many barriers as I must in order to keep the bulls-eye on my own forehead. But I do all of that so that Russia can achieve the true greatness I know it is worthy of.”

“Would you want to move somewhere else, if there was someone you loved there?” Viktor asked, raising an eyebrow.

Laritha was saved from answering, though, by Yuri returning from the bakery. Gruffly, he shoved a small paper bag in her direction. “ _ Here _ .”

Surprised, Laritha took the bag from him and looked in side. “For me?”

“I know you didn’t eat breakfast either, idiot. Shut up and eat it.”

Laritha smiled, pulling the still-warm croissant out of the bag,

“Hey, hey, Yurio, did you get anything for us?” Viktor begged.

“You don’t need it!” Yuri shouted back, shoving his hands in his pockets and stomping away down the street.

Laritha just munched at her croissant in pleased silence.

 

~~~~~

“ ‘End of Innocence’, huh?” muttered Laritha’s designer, a woman by the name of Anna Izmaylova. Apparently, she was actually a former figure skater Laritha had known back when she was in competition, and had dropped out due to an injury. Her studio was covered in awards she’d won and pictures of the outfits she’d designed, at least a few of which were Laritha as either a junior skater or a Bolshoi ballerina.

“Here are some of my recent designs,” Anna was saying, pushing a sketchbook toward Laritha and Yuri. Yuuri was busy looking around at the various photos, commenting that Anna had designed a few of Viktor’s skating costumes, too. Viktor himself only nodded along, seeming to be vicariously enjoying Yuuri’s excitement.

“For more details on the concept, think of me as an innocent girl that is overcome by darkness, and turns into a witch that curses others,” Laritha explained -- more or less what she and Yuri had agreed upon. 

Anna leaned back, contemplating. “Well… for ‘innocence’, I think pink is the most accurate, but the darkness most certainly means black. Hmm…”

She picked up the sketchbook and flipped through the designs. “How about this one? If we modify it a bit…” She grabbed a pencil and began to rapidly draw over the picture, sketching out the new details. “There,” she finished, turning the picture toward Yuri and Laritha. “What do you think? If we do a lighter pink for the decoration, and some dark pink sparkle for the swirls along the collarbones, it should look quite nice.”

It was fairly simple, especially compared to the costumes Yuri had worn at the Gran Prix last year, but worked well enough. It was asymmetrical, with a side-flaring skirt and one bare shoulder complemented by a long, billowy black sleeve on the other arm.

“What do you think, Yuri?” Laritha asked.

“Why’re you asking  _ me _ ?”

“Well… it is your choreography, is it not?”

He grumbled to himself, then said, “it’s fine.”

Laritha nodded to Anna. “I am counting on you then, Anna. I am sorry for the short notice.”

Anna shook her head. “No no, I have been wanting to design for you again for quite some time. I was sad when I heard you had left Bolshoi, but this is relieving.” She smiled, first at Laritha, then at Yuri. “Perhaps I may be allowed to design for little Yuri someday, too!”

“Not a chance, old lady,” Yuri grumbled before quickly escaping outside.

Laritha followed shortly after, blinking at the sudden direct sunlight. “Shall we go shopping, then?”

 

~~~~~

 

Despite all of his fretting, Laritha was amused to notice that the outfit Yuri had settled on was more or less the same as what he’d been wearing earlier. The only real difference was that he’d switched the lion-faced t-shirt out for a plain black tank top. Everything else-- from the leopard-print jacket to the dark blue skinny jeans-- was exactly the same, just new.

That didn’t stop him from fidgeting nervously as they made their way through the airport, to the gate that Otabek Altin was supposed to be coming through.

“Should I take the jacket off, or not? -- Don’t answer that, Viktor. Do you think he really wanted to come here? Is he gonna feel comfortable?”

Yuuri, who was up walking next to him, was only being made anxious because of Yuri’s anxiety, which only amplified Yuri’s nerves. It made for a vicious cycle.

“I don’t think Yuri’s been this flustered since the Rostelecom Cup,” Viktor chuckled to Laritha, looking at Yuri while holding a finger musingly over his lips.

Laritha gave Viktor a sideways glance. “What do you know about this Otabek? How long have they been friends?”

Viktor hummed to himself. “Who’s to say? Otabek isn’t as interesting as Yuuri.”

Laritha glared at him, intensely enough to turn his blood to ice, and Viktor blurted, “don’t look at me like that! Otabek doesn’t say much, and they haven’t been friends for long. Less than a year. But they are quite cute. The fairy of Russia and the Hero of Kazakhstan. Like an old fairy tale.”

Laritha frowned, again watching Yuri shout at Yuuri for standing too close, to let  _ him _ hold the “Otabek Altin” sign, because it was  _ his _ friend. 

Laritha remembered clearly when “the hero of Kazakhstan kidnaps the fairy of Russia” had been all over the internet the previous year. She remembered panicking, thinking the worst of that headline, almost unable to make herself read the rest of the article. She had been seconds away from making calls to her contacts in Barcelona. 

That was why hearing Otabek’s name back when she and Yuri had been training had made her so nervous. It triggered the memory of the panic she’d felt, even though she knew that the media had overreacted and Yuri was absolutely fine. Still, she had heard very little clarification of their relationship after that incident, until Yuri had claimed Otabek as his friend. It had been both a relief and a further concern-- they were friends, but what did that really mean for Yuri, who did not seem to make friends easily?

She said nothing, even as she thought these things, but bit the inside of her cheek and waited.

“Ah! Here they come! Pork Bowl, can you lift me up?”

“E-eh?! Yurio, he can see you just fine where you are!”

Laritha continued to nibble at the inside of her cheek and watched as people began filing through the gate, noting the variety. Some were Russians, returning from business trips. Some were travelling alone, some in groups, some with no family and friends waiting for them at the gate, and some quickly finding their names among the multitude of signs and greeting their loved ones with exhausted smiles. Some were Kazakhstani, looking around curiously at the Russian airport.

Among the latter category was Yuri’s friend. Otabek Altin-- a name she hadn’t really known while she was at Bolshoi, at least until reading the article, and so she’d looked him up on the internet in an effort to appease her discomfort. Taller, more heavily built than her brother, older than him by three years, and almost always wearing a serious or blank expression. She wondered how exactly he had become friends with her brother after ostensibly “kidnapping” him.

“Ah!!! Is that Yuri Plisetsky?!” she heard a girl squeal, and immediately turned to look. So did a bunch of other people, following the girl’s eyes to Yuri’s face.

“Uh-oh,” Yuri blanched, realizing that His Fans had found them. “I forgot about them.”

“AND IS THAT VIKTOR NIKIFOROV WITH HIM?!”

“How could you forget something like that?!” Yuuri squeaked, just as a mass of girls seemed to come out of the woodwork of the airport and swarm them en masse, much to the dismay of the arriving Kazakhstani people.

“Should we run?” Viktor asked cheerfully.

“Why do you seem like you’re enjoying this?” Yuuri grumbled, but grabbed Viktor’s hand and started to run off through the airport. 

“But what about Beka?!” Yuri shouted back.”

“Yura? What’s going on?”

The voice was deep, much deeper than Laritha had predicted. She spun away from Yuri, looking the newcomer in the eyes.

So  _ this _ was Otabek Altin.

He looked very confused at the moment, and Laritha didn’t blame him.

Yuri grabbed his hand, shouting, “never mind, just run!” and took off, nearly dragging his friend through the gate fence.

Laritha watched them disappear through the airport, Otabek’s rolling bag rattling behind them. She noted the wild grin on her brother’s face, the sparkle of delight in his green eyes. She hadn’t seen that expression on Yuri since he’d been a child first learning to skate. 

She sighed, disappearing into the crowd that seemed completely unaware of her presence.

_ Someone _ had to go get Otabek’s luggage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sorry for the super long delay. I was experiencing writer's block, and still kind of am, but at least I got a chapter out! Sorry it took me so long to introduce Otabek into a supposedly OtaYuri story! But things are finally really starting to happen!
> 
> Also, sorry this story is getting so dark. I would say I didn't intend it to be that way, but I kind of did? I guess I just didn't realize how dark what I was planning really was, lol.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for your patience~


End file.
